


The Horrors of Band Trips

by chocobeat



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: He brought the dogs bro, Marching Band AU, Other, larry is nasty and sal endures so much, no knowledge of marching band we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 20:36:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17567537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobeat/pseuds/chocobeat
Summary: Larry brings a snack. Sal wishes his sense of smell was destroyed in his accident.





	The Horrors of Band Trips

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by dms between @tesspumpkins and me on twitter; I said Larry eats raw hot dogs and we spiraled from there. Marching Band au is completely her idea because I don't know a damn about anything! 
> 
> Maybe I'll do more as we gnash our horrible brains together, maybe this is all you get.

Larry slaps his hand over the edge of Sal’s seat with as much of his palm to create a slapping noise that reverberates in Sal’s ear. He doesn’t jump anymore, Larry did this every bus ride to get a rise out of him.

               “Yeah, what’s good?”

               “Dude check it out, I brought them.” Larry says, now pulling himself forward so his hair hangs into Sal’s personal bubble.

Sal is almost too worried to question him further, but sighs and decides to humor him. It was going to be a long ride to the venue they’d be playing, and his video games weren’t cutting it. He'd have to remind himself to ask his dad to take him to Blockbuster.

                “Brought what?”

               “The dogs, man.”

Of course. The dogs.

He regrets encouraging him.

Sal wishes it wasn’t too late to pretend to be asleep as Larry heaves himself over the back of his assigned bus seat and lands against the hot leather with another loud _smack_.

Leave it to Larry Johnson to be the most disgusting person on a bus full of teenagers and their spittle-filled French horns. But Sal can’t help it when he cracks a smile. Larry knew that the heat made Sally sweat underneath his prosthetic face, which made Sal cranky. He needed a pick-me-up in the form of his best friend’s backwards—and often nasty—humor.

Larry reaches into his knapsack and pulls out a warmed-through, stinky pack of hot dogs. Sal notes that they aren’t even Kosher. The bile instantly starts to build up in his stomach from the sight of heavily processed meat. Those had to be sitting in there since they left in the morning.

               “You in?” He nudges the pack towards Sal. Its so warm that the plastic is dripping hot dog juice, and it flies towards his thigh.

 Sal pales underneath his prosthetic. Maybe he didn’t need Larry's humor after all.

               “Uh…pass, man.” He looks ahead in hopes that the hot dog drips don’t stain his new shorts as the bus jostles drips of the liquid in his direction. In the pocket of his hoodie his hands are tense. If Larry swishes the hot dogs around his nose one more time Sal might just have to slap his hands away. The stench was starting to penetrate his mask.

               “Huh. You don’t know what you’re missing.” Sal hears Larry tearing the bag open with his teeth, and he spits the plastic out the window. It makes Sal squeeze his eyes shut as he hopes Larry won’t make any more revolting noises.

As if on cue, Larry _fucking_ Johnson sucks some stray hot dog juice from his thumb and sinks his teeth into one of the dogs. He smacks his lips loudly as he chews. The smell is what does Sal in. The fucking smell. He turns his face away from Larry, raising his shoulders as if they would guard him.

               “Hey! No worries, dude, they’re fully cooked!”

               “Holy shit,” Sal gags, leaning into the aisle to avoid hot dog breath, “How can you stomach that? Especially after that bologna bullshit? Christ, Larry, ew—Don’t breathe on me.”

Sal is practically doubled over, covering his head while Larry laughs and leans as close as he can to answer him. He answers breathily, even going so far as to fan his words towards Sal.

                “They’re cheddar cheese filled, too, are you catching any notes of that?” Then Larry is hysterical, clutching his stomach and his dogs in the other hand. His hair is soaking in the liquid excreted by meat and cheese. He sobers slowly, placing his cleanest hand on Sal’s back.

“Aw, come on man, I’m just hungry. Can you blame a guy for indulging?”

                “Yes.”

                “Look, Lisa packed you some apple sauce. You want that? There’s even a bendy straw.”

Sal risks a glance, and Larry is telling him the truth. Although, he can bet his allowance that the cup is absolutely fucking _drenched_ in meat juice. The straw is blue, however. He uncovers his head and holds out a hand.

                “Give me a napkin and we’re clear.”

Once devoid of any processed meat residue, Sally takes the cup from Larry and props his feet onto the seat. He gets comfortable to enjoy his snack. He pops a hole into the foil with the straw and slips the other end under his mask to suck it down carefully.

He savors it because Lisa thought of him when packing for her own son.

Next to him, Larry downs another hot dog without the theatrics of the first round. It still doesn’t stop him from speaking with his mouth full, but Sal doesn’t mind if he’s not being pummeled by dog breath. Larry looks at Sal from the corner of his eye. He holds another flopping rod of processed meat towards him, offering.

                “You sure you don’t want one, Sally Face?”

                “I’m sure.”

                “You’re missing out for real. Mm-mmm-mm! This is the life.”

Sal nods, skeptical. He glues his eyes to the seat in front of him, fearing for his stomach as Larry slurps down the remaining hot dogs in the pack.


End file.
